The Best Part of Me
by aphcarriedo
Summary: You and I both know that the world will be better off without me. All I've done to other people is hurt them and push them away, and maybe me being gone forever will help them live their lives. I don't have any good qualities, you know this. I'm selfish, greedy, envious, you name it. Come to think of it, the only good thing about me...Was you. Human AU, Spamano.
1. Chapter 1

_What am I supposed to do when the best part of me_

_Was always you?_

_What am I supposed to say when I'm all choked up_

_That you're okay?_

_I'm falling to pieces._

_I'm falling to pieces._

This was all my fault. Words can't even describe how badly I messed things up. I'm so, so sorry. If you're reading this, Antonio...it means that I'm done. My life is over. I never-I never meant to hurt you. I loved you. I loved you so much that it hurt; but it was like a drug—I could never get enough of that bittersweet pain.

I know that throwing myself off of our balcony into the front yard's jagged rocks might've been selfish; but then again, maybe it wasn't. You and I both know that the world will be better off without me. All I've done to other people is hurt them and push them away, and maybe with me gone forever will help them live their lives. I don't have any good qualities, you know this. I'm selfish, greedy, envious, you name it. Come to think of it, the only good thing about me...

Was you.

And that's why I''m writing this to you. I just want to say...that I'm sorry. And now, as my tears color the page with the pain of broken promises and ended relationships, you can see that. No words that I could ever have said wouldn't be able to convey that. I'm not all that good with words, at least when saying them to other people. Maybe that's why you left me. I've never been able to truly tell you that I love you. That's entirely my fault.

If you're even reading this—which I hope you are—just know that I love you. It hurts me that the last words you'll ever hear from me will be to go away; that I never wanted you around in the first place. I suppose I'm trying to make up for it some how, with the ink of a pen that will never hold the solace of spoken words. Did you find my voice comforting? Was I a home to you like you were to me? Did my eyes hold the universe like yours? Could you still feel that I loved you, even when I didn't say it? I can only hope, for I may never know. For now, in the last minutes of my life while I write this, I will only hope that maybe you will come back, and save me from the monster that is inside of me.

But you won't.

Because you can't.

Because even if you managed to sooth the beast within me, it will come back. I will never be able to escape me; it hounds me. It always will. It yearns for my death.

I suppose, maybe, if I had an ounce of hatred for you in my body, I would be blaming you for this. You were the one that left. You were the one that yelled that you never even loved me in the first place. But I can't. I could never bring myself to hate you because you were the one part of me that made the rest a bit better. And it's not your fault. I am the only one to blame for being selfish, for taking your love and giving nothing in return. And maybe you never really did love me; there is nothing about me to love.

But for you, Antonio, there is nothing about you to hate. Your eyes held the world for me. You were the only person to take interest in me; and for that, I thank you. You made this past year bearable. I remember that I would find myself falling asleep, only to await the morning so I could see you again. I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. Maybe writing it here enough will make up for all the times that I should've said it.

The window is now broken. I'm not sure if it's from rage, or sadness, or loneliness, or just feeling nothing at all. I'm sorry about that. Will you still live in our house? Will it remind you of all the times we had together? The kisses, the heated moments? Or will it fill you with disgust?

I think that I'm ready to die. I've lived fully, since I met you. Hopefully the balcony is high enough and the rocks are sharp enough. Hell, wouldn't it be hilarious if I lived? I guess it would be very awkward, given that I've almost confessed my soul to you.

Will you be sad to find my body in front of our house? Hurt? Enraged that I had the guts to do it where we both shared so many memories? On second thought, maybe I should've picked a different place to kill myself—I don't want to mar the beautiful things that've happened here.

It's too late for second thoughts, though. I've chosen my fate.

I can still remember what it felt like to have my hand in yours. I can still feel your gentle lips, that have claimed every inch of my body. I can almost feel you next to me—but you're not. If I even manage to somehow live through this ordeal and you don't want me anymore, I don't think I'd be able to love another living soul for the rest of my life. I'm crying again. I guess you can tell, because there are splotches on the page.

But please, _please, _Antonio, live your life. Even if you are sad that I'm finally gone (which I can't imagine that you would be), move on. Get a new girlfriend or boyfriend. Go out with your friends. I wouldn't be able to stand myself if you stayed stuck on me.

I am so selfish. I'll probably go to hell for this—I deserve it. I deserve to burn for eternity for causing you pain. You, practically an angel. In my eyes you were. Maybe sent to try and redeem my soul. I'm sorry, but my soul is already lost. I drift in the never-ending stream of hopelessness and depression.

You know, I thought love was supposed to be selfless. Kind. Unwanting. But my deep love for you makes me burn with hatred for myself—it makes me feel this greed that I've never known before. I want you. All of you. But I must deny myself this because I just don't _deserve _you. I hope that God will have pity on me and grant me mercy, so even after leaving this world I'll be able to watch you.

I hear a car driving up the street. My handwriting is now rushed. I need to do this quickly, because if I don't die on impact, my only choice will be to bleed out. It will be painful, yes, but I deserve it. All of it.

Tell...Tell Feliciano that I'm sorry. And that I love him.

Tell yourself that I love you. Because I do. I love you so, so much.

All my love,

Lovino Vargas

[This is a short drabble. I may continue it if I feel like it. But maybe not. I'll let you, dear reader, decide if he lives or not. If Antonio shows up in time to stop him, or call the paramedics just as he falls. If he does die on impact, and the jagged rocks crush his skull, or if he misses, and dies a painful death by slowly bleeding out on the pavement.

By the way, the beast Lovino talks of is depression. Thank you for reading.]


	2. Chapter 2

"_I love you, Lovi."_

_Silence._

"_Lovi? Do you love me?"_

_Silence._

"_Lovin-"_

"_Shut up."_

"_Why do you do this to me?"_

"_Because I don't want you around! I never told you that I did."_

"_Fine. I've had enough."_

"_W-What the fuck do you mean, bastard?!"_

"_I don't know. I don't even know if I even loved you in the first place anymore."_

_The door is opened and then slammed shut._

_And then silence._

How could you ever have thought it was your fault?

Why? Why, why, _why _did you try and leave me?

If anything, it is my fault. I shouldn't have tried and push you away. I'm so sorry. I'm writing this as you lay in the hospital bed, breathing and alive, but still locked in the confines of your mind. How could I ever have been so stupid? How did I not see the love in your eyes whenever I said it to you? How could I not see that it was hard sometimes for you to get out of bed? You say that you are the one to blame, but I know better. I did nothing to stop you. I left, and only came back at barely the right moment.

Lovino, I love you. I know you love me. I _know, _and yet I still abandoned you when you wouldn't say those three stupid words.

I don't know what I'll do if you go. I can't live without you. It's almost like before I met you, my life was nothing. You make my life burst with color, and only you can do that. It may be hard to believe, but you mean so much to me. I can't imagine my life without you anymore. Don't leave me.

Please.

How could you ever think that I was somehow the 'best' part of you? You are this amazing human being, Lovi, and you have this complex personality that is wonderful. You may take a while to figure out, but once I did, it's like I found a whole new person. You care about people. You may act like you don't, but you do. I'm so glad that I got to know you, because you are the most beautiful and _real _person that I have ever met.

My tears, too, blend with the page, and it makes it hard to see what I'm writing. You...you have to wake up. There is no way that I would be able to survive another day if you died. I swear on all things good, if you go, there will be nothing stopping me from going crazy. I feel crazy already. There's feelings and emotions that are swirling in my mind and it makes me feel insane. You are the only person that helps me sort them out and I can't lose that. I can't lose _you. _You're the one piece of my life that keeps the rest from unraveling around my feet. I don't know what depression feels like, I'll admit. I am stupid. I am clueless. But you have to wake up so I can help you the best I can, Lovi. We...both of us, we fix each other.

I know what you're saying, you know. When you say that the love you have for me makes you feel insane, greedy, selfish. In this dark corner of my mind, I feel it. I want every single piece of you, and there is no way I would be able to let anyone else have you. It slowly encroaches on my sanity, and tears apart everything I thought I ever knew about love. But that's what makes us unique—what makes us special for each other. No one but us would be able to understand. And that's one of the things I pride myself on; even if I may never understand common things about life, I understand _you. _And to me, that's the most important thing I will ever know.

When I look at you now, all mangled and falling apart at the seams on this white hospital bed, I feel like I'm drowning. It feels like salt water is filling my lungs up, and every time I try and take a breath, I only dig my grave deeper. You are my oxygen, Lovi. I need you so I can live. It's selfish, and greedy, and it makes me hate myself for it, but I can't do anything about it. You're not the only one with problems, and maybe that's why I understand you so well. As they say, which almost seems true for both of us, the ones who smile the brightest...

Hurt the most inside.

And I don't know if you know this, but you're smile is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Every single star in the sky could never compare to it. It makes me feel this stirring feeling in my chest. It makes me think, _This is the person that I would kill a million men for. I would die a thousand times just so I could be with him for only a lifetime. _There is no one who makes me feel like that.

I hate myself so much. There is no one to blame but me. You may think you don't deserve the world, but the world doesn't deserve _you. _I don't deserve you. You are this beautiful being, and the world has turned you cold. I hate it. I hate the world. I hate it because they made you feel like you weren't good enough, and that is far from the truth. In all honesty, I don't think I've ever met a person like you, and that's a shame because you are someone everyone should try to be. You have this way that you look at the world, and its not sugarcoated. It's real, and people can't see that your way of thinking is amazing. There are millions of words in Spanish, Italian, English—and none of them can adequately describe how truly _wonderful _you are.

But I can always try.

Even if it takes the rest of my life, I will search and search for a way to describe you; the way you make me feel deep inside my heart.

Lovino, you can't leave me. You can't. You have to wake up.

You have to wake up, because if you don't, I might as well die. You are my reason for living. I didn't know it before, but it's true.

I have to stop writing soon.

Feliciano's here with Ludwig. I know you don't like him, but believe it or not, he's crying. So is Feliciano. He's saying something in Italian, Hail Mary, I think. I'm crying.

It kinda looks like you're crying, too, but those are my tears, from when I wept over your body when they said you might never wake up, and if you did, you might not remember me. I don't care. It'll be a blessing if you wake up, and maybe I'd be able to make you fall in love with me all over again. Even if I can't, I'll be able to live with myself, at least, knowing that you got another chance.

By the way, my favorite color used to be green, too. And when I met you, it became red, because when I first saw you, you were eating a tomato. I will always associate that color with you now. It seems silly, when writing it, but its true. I'd say that your eyes were my favorite color, but you can't pin yours to just one, which is one of the things that I first noticed about you. It's one of my favorite features on you.

If you do die, tell...tell my mamá...tell her that I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm such a disappoint for not trying to discover the cure to what took abuela.

Tell yourself that I'm sorry for not being there when you needed me most.

Tell yourself that I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.

Maybe writing it enough will make up for the one time I told you I didn't.

All my love,

Antonio Fernandez Carriedo

[I got reviews saying to do it in Antonio's POV, so here it is. I really wanted to touch on the fact that he does have some psychological problems, and that he really would be able to relate to Lovino. If I feel up to it, there might be a third and final part. Otherwise, if you guys don't say you want another part, I'll leave it up to your imagination. Does Lovino wake up? Do the pull the plug? Does he forget who Antonio is?

If there's going to be a third part, it will definitely be very long. Thank you for reading, reviews are appreciated.]


	3. Chapter 3

You're gone.

Not dead. You don't remember me anymore. My therapist told me this might help me, writing you letters but not sending them. I can feel it. I can feel my sanity slowly unravel and dissolve into nothing. The normal part of my mind is becoming smaller and smaller. I can't let it take over.

Not again.

All I think about is you these days. I try to stay strong, but I can't. It's a struggle to wake up every morning. Sometimes I pray and pray each night that when I wake, all of this will have been a dream, and you'll be beside me. It never happens.

I fixed up and sold the house. I don't think I would've been able to live their anymore, with all the memories that it still held. I live in a small apartment. Even if its almost like a shoe box, it still feels too big without you.

Feliciano calls me regularly. He tells me how you're doing. You've made a quick recovery, from what I've been told. You only remember up until right before you met me.

Ironic, huh?

I deserve it. I deserve every single moment of it. I am a monster. I put you through so much pain and it is all my fault. I'm a coward, too. I can't even bring myself to press the knife into my throat.

I tried, though. The farthest I got was a little drop of blood. I watched it slide down my chest. I put the knife down and cleaned myself off. I cursed myself for being a fool and not ending my life.

I think the next time Feli calls, I'll tell him to bring him to our old house. The new people haven't moved in yet, and I think it might help. Maybe it will.

I love you.

* * *

I told him last night. He agreed happily, and we're going today, since I'm the only one with a key. Sorry about all the tears on the last page, but it's still hard for me to think about what happened without losing it.

I think about you every single second. How could I have let this happened? How could I have been so _stupid_?

I woke up this morning with scabs on my arms. I told my therapist, and she said it was me, subconsciously picking at my skin as a form of self harm. Good. I deserve every last scar the world can throw at me.

I haven't left the house in a week. I've only got another couple of days before I have to go back to work. I can feel my mind slowly deteriorating into nothing but a husk. What's happening to me? Is it going to be like last time when I-

No. I can't think about that. Not anymore.

I have to stop writing now, because I have to leave soon.

I love you.

* * *

The house worked, but only for a few moments. It was like you looked at me, and I knew that you remembered. There was this look in your eyes—a look that was pleading forgiveness and screaming love. You fell back into your amnesia, though. The doctors say that its a step in the right direction, and that we should bring you to more places with strong memories.

I found more scars on my arms. My therapist prescribed me medicine for it, but I haven't been taking them. It gives me pleasure knowing that my mind is punishing me.

My visits are becoming more frequent. I don't know what's going on. There are pieces of the day that I can't remember. I'm so scared, Lovino. You may be awake, but not fully. And that's why you have to wake up. You're the only person that can piece my mind back together. I can't lose control again. I can't. Because the last time I did, my grandmother died.

I suppose that I should finally admit to it. Confess. This is something that I never told you. When I was little, when I still lived in Spain. It hurts to think about it. My salty tears threaten to spill on the page.

My mother and I were in the car, driving to the market. We crashed. She died, and I received brain damage. The doctors thought nothing would come of it—it was minor, they said. I was given to my grandmother. Something...something had happened, in my head. I blacked out, and when I woke up, my grandma was dead. I promised myself it would never happen again. I hid my worries with a smile. My mother came to me in a dream, telling me that I had to find out what it was, and stop it. I didn't. I'm a failure. And now, with you gone from my life, there's nothing left.

I love you.

* * *

I'm in the hospital. The picking got so bad that I had major blood loss. Why did they have to save me? Why did Feliciano decide to visit? I'd be dead right now. I wouldn't have to worry about hurting anyone.

Feliciano and Ludwig are asleep in the chairs in the room. You're here, too, but only because you have to be. You're not allowed to be left alone anymore.

Come to think of it, you were really the only person that I talked to anymore, with the exception of Feli and Lud. I've been so reclusive lately.

You just asked me, 'Why do you pick at yourself subconsciously?' I didn't even know you were awake. I told you that I was too much of a coward to hurt myself the right way.

You huffed and said, 'There's no right way. It's wrong.'

I smiled sadly at you and shook my head. I said, 'you're wrong.'

You asked me, 'How?'

I replied, 'if I had done it right, I'd be dead.'

You let one tear roll down your cheek before wiping it away quickly.

I want so badly to touch you right now, Lovi. You have no idea. I still feel this burning love for you, and its the only thing I can think about anymore. Please remember.

'What are you writing?'

'nothing.'

'That's bullshit.'

'i can't tell you.'

'Why not?'

'because you don't remember me.'

'Maybe I want to.'

I love you.

* * *

You called me at the hospital and asked if it was okay if you visited. I told you yes, and Feliciano dropped you off and promised to pick you up at seven.

You're here still. It's been silent for a little while, so I decided to write a little more. I can feel my mind going back to peace with you around. I'm so thankful that you want to try and remember me. It seems that you're a little nicer now. I can't place it, but you seem...lighter, somehow. You still curse like a drunken sailor, but it's nice.

'Antonio?'

'yes?'

'What's my favorite color? I asked Feli, but he said it was red, and I don't think so.' I looked at you for a few moments.

'green.'

'Oh, that's right. Thank you.' The suicide attempt must've changed you. You're definitely...mellower. I think the doctors said it affected some of your personality. I'm crying, though, because in your note you said your favorite color was only green because the color of my eyes is green.

'Why are you crying, bastard?' There's the Lovi I know. I smiled a bit.

'are you sure you want to know?'

'Of course.'

'your favorite color used to be red. you told me that it only became green after you met me, because it was the color of my eyes.' you went silent for a couple seconds.

'I can see why.'

I love you.

* * *

I got admitted from the hospital. I got fired from my job, too, since I was gone for too long. I'm starting to feel okay. You're visiting me more and more often, and that's good. You're becoming like your old self again, too. I saw you eating a tomato the other day. I started to cry.

I feel sane again. I mean, there's still the corner of my mind that pushes every day to take over, but it's easier to hold back.

My therapist told me I didn't have to keep writing this, since I was receiving closure with you. I still want to do it, since it's not finished.

There's a knock at the door.

It was you.

Don't read over my shoulder, Lovi.

I don't care if you just showed up, I'm not finished.

P-Please don't leave.

Good.

You just went to go find a movie to watch. I guess I'll stop.

I love you.

* * *

You kissed me.

I love you.

* * *

I think this'll be my last entry. We bought the house again. I tell you that I love you every chance that I get. We still haven't had sex, but that's alright. I gently asked you and you said you didn't know.

I'll wait. I'd wait a million years to be with you for a day.

You're out at the store right now, getting stuff for dinner tonight. You've finally been deemed psychologically sane, and you can go by yourself. You haven't told me that you love me, but that's okay. I know that you do.

Feliciano and Ludwig are getting married in Italy. They told me over the phone. I'm going to tell you tonight over dinner.

I think, after all this time of looking at all the moments we've shared together, I've figured out our relationship.

We are the best part of each other. You fix me, Lovino. I fix you. Maybe we have an unhealthy relationship, filled with greed and selfishness. I don't want it any other way. I wouldn't be able to feel this for anyone else in the universe. I hope you feel the same about me.

You still don't remember the year that we spent together. That's alright; we've made new memories. I'm happy with us now. I don't want it to change.

I'm still selfish. I'm working on it. But you can't leave me again. I wouldn't be able to do it. Not again. I'm so afraid that something will happen, and you'll be gone and the insanity will will take me over. You are my sanity; you are the stars to my sky and the air to my lungs. You make every single part of me complete. You make me someone that I'd never be able to be on my own. Whether it's good or bad—who knows.

Promise me. Promise me you won't leave.

I love you.

* * *

I promise.

I...I love you too, Antonio.

* * *

[And that concludes this little drabble that turned into a story. At first, I wasn't going to end this story happily, but I really wanted this to end on the note that it did, and that wouldn't have been able to happen if I had done what I had originally planned. I really wanted to point out that, even in the manga, Lovino is the only person to make him sane. It's canon that Antonio has a darker side to his personality, but he put it at bay to raise Lovino. I _may _continue this with a short epilogue (not in the form of notes), but only if I get several requests to do it. I also want to bring to attention the several moments of dialogue, in which Lovino's sentences are properly written, but Antonio's have no capitalization. _I did this on purpose. _This is his brain's subconscious way of showing that he sees himself as lower than Lovino. There are also parts, earlier in his 'journal,' where his sentences don't make sense. **_I did this on purpose._**This is to show the unraveling state of Antonio. His grammar gets better at the end because his head is clearer.

Thank you for reading, reviews are greatly appreciated.]


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